Kryptonite
by Gridmaster
Summary: At a mandatory costume party, Chris Larabee is confronted by his personal Kryptonite


Chris ran a finger under the edge of the black mask he wore, wondering for the hundredth time that night how he'd gotten roped into this damn party. Somehow, he'd agreed to represent Team Seven at the mayor's annual costume ball.

The tall, blond man had gone with as minimal a "costume" he felt he could get away with without incurring Judge Travis's wrath. Didn't matter that everything he was wearing came out of his own closet; add a mask, it's a costume. Black jeans hugged his slim legs, leading to a black Western shirt, both under a long black duster. A black, flat-brimmed cowboy hat shielded his masked eyes, and a wide, silver-studdedblack gunbelt rested on his hips.

Judge Travis, dressed as Julius Caesar, raised an eyebrow at the gun on Chris's hip. Chris, for his part, just tipped his hat, looking for all the world like he'd stepped out of a dime novel or Western movie. "At least he made something of an effort," Travis commented to his wife.

Damn, he hated mingling, making small talk. And the food left something to be desired. Studying the trays full of tiny skewered food, all Chris wanted to do was head down to the Saloon, get a cheeseburger, fries, and a very large beer.

A flash of red caught his eye. Looking up from the stuffy town planning board member he'd somehow gotten caught by, he searched for the source. And damn if he didn't find it.

"Kara Zor-El," he thought, edge of his mouth twisting in a small smirk. Buck would have a field day. Supergirl was Chris's first love, and Buck used to tease him that he first fell for Sarah because of her long, blonde hair. Tuning out the stuffed-shirt in front of him, green eyes followed the red cape and blue leotard through the room, studying her movements, trying to determine her "secret identity."

"Excuse me," he finally said, extricating himself from the board member's attempts at conversation. Stealthily, he tracked Supergirl through the party, weaving between luminaries, dignitaries, and representatives. A familiar laugh caught his ear, and his mouth quirked again. No mistaking that laugh; his Kara was Mary Travis. "Didn't think she had that in her," he thought, watching her laugh and move through the crowd, red skirt barely brushing her upper thighs, the blue leotard hugging the curves of her upper body. The red cape swirled tantalizingly around her legs, giving him flashes of long, pale thighs and those red boots that made her long legs look even longer. Not even the actress in his beloved movie did the suit as much justice as Mary did that night.

Watching her, Chris could feel an almost-forgotten stirring, the slow pull that he usually tried to ignore. Something about this night, though, changed his usual actions. Instead of ignoring his feelings, he decided to indulge in them. He kept watching Mary, covertly, storing up images for "later use." He'd always found her attractive, but figured he wasn't one for her. Kept reminding himself Billy wasn't Adam, despite his fondness for the fatherless boy. In that Supergirl costume, though, he thought he might be willing to make an exception.

* * *

Mary could feel those green eyes following her. "The cowboy thinks he's being discreet," she thought, amused. He hadn't taken his eyes off her in half an hour, and she was starting to get aroused by the attention. Chris was damn sexy in that getup, the gunbelt giving the already-dangerous man an even sharper edge. "God help me if I was a single woman in the Old West with him around," she thought.

She started moving again, taking in the sights and sounds of the party, filing away details, names and faces for a later article, all the while aware of Chris's surveillance. Unconsciously, she added a small swing to her hips, feeling the soft lycra skirt whispering against her thighs, watching how she placed her feet, surreptitiously watching for any change in Chris's behaviour. She was rewarded by his casual, loping gait, keeping her in sight yet acting nonchalant.

"Oh, the hell with this." She turned and headed towards the black-clad gunslinger. "Chris."

"Kara." Those lips of his twitched, and she couldn't help wondering how they'd feel against hers.

She ignored his amusement. "You've been watching me for half an hour."

"You're the best thing to watch here."

Her heart started thudding at that proclamation. "You're not too bad on the eyes, either." Her eyes flicked down to his gunbelt, and back up to his eyes. "The Judge see that?"

"Yup." He smirked, damn him. Didn't he know how sexy he was when he smiled? "Didn't say anything."

"He knows you. Knows it'd be a losing battle to get you to take it off."

Chris leaned in a little closer to Mary, his voice low. "Don't know about that; there are ways I could be...convinced."

Mary licked her suddenly-dry lips, too aware of how Chris watched the darting motion of her tongue, how his green eyes darkened as he watched. Damn, but the man was dangerous…and damn if she wasn't ready and willing to court some of that danger.

Chris was enjoying how close he was to Mary, how she looked even better up close and personal. The blue lycra clung to her like a second skin, and from his vantage point, he could tell their proximity was affecting her, too. "Nice night outside for this time of year," he offered. "Stand to get some fresh air?"

She accepted the arm he offered, and he felt the twinges stirring again. No one seemed to notice the gunslinger and the superheroine making their way out of the crowded ballroom.

* * *

"Oh, god, Chris," Mary moaned. His fingers were like nothing she'd ever felt before, finding the exact point on her arch where the cramp had started. As they'd gotten to the balcony, those red boots of hers had decided to revolt, nearly dropping her to her knees from the pain in her left foot. Chris had picked her up, carrying her to a small stone bench before removing the offending boot and working out the knot. As her foot relaxed, so did she, sighing in relief and pleasure, mind trying not to extrapolate how his hands would feel elsewhere, if they were that amazing just on her foot.

Chris, for his part, was enjoying holding her slender foot in his hands almost as much as he'd enjoyed sliding that long red boot off her leg. The rest of the party seemed content to stay inside with the champagne and canapés, leaving the two of them alone on the balcony. "Better?" he asked, one warm hand sliding up to cup her ankle.

"Much," she sighed, flexing her foot. Chris gave the sole a few more strokes with his thumbs before sliding the boot back on and slowly zipping it back up. Mary tried not to shiver at the sensation of his hands on her leg and failed.

Chris's eyebrow raised. "Cold?"

"Not in the slightest," she admitted. Alone with him, she felt suddenly bold.

"Neither am I." He joined her on the bench, his heat radiating towards her. Their eyes met, and he was pleased to see that her blue eyes were dark with arousal. "Mary…."

"God, Chris, just shut up and kiss me," she groaned an instant before he did just that.

His lips were warm and full, teasing and demanding. Her fingers moved up, pulling his mask up, knocking his hat off so she could thread them through that blond hair of his. She moaned softly, giving his tongue the opportunity to delve into her mouth, and she welcomed it, returning the gesture, deepening the kiss she'd ached for. His hands worked around her waist, under the cape, pulling her in tighter.

"Can't stay here," he managed to mumble as his hands defied his brain's orders and moved to caress the side of her breast.

Mary couldn't help arching into his touch. "Too open," she agreed between fevered kisses.

They tore themselves apart long enough to make their way back inside. Chris's quick eyes picked out a small door, then mentally swore. Mary followed his eyes, and to his surprise, the lithe blonde just smiled, a sultry little smile he'd never thought to see on her face, before she nodded quick acceptance.

A linen closet. Of all the places he'd fantasized about being with Mary, a linen closet in the Denver Hilton was not one of them. Yet here they were, and Mary didn't seem to mind. She _really_ didn't seem to mind, from her responses to his touch.

Mary moaned as Chris kissed along the side of her neck, finding the small, sensitive area right where it met her shoulder. God, she wanted this man, so much she didn't mind the fact they were in a linen closet. Truthfully, it was almost exciting, the way they were finally getting to be together. Her fingers scrabbled at the buttons on his shirt, pulling it out of his pants so she could finally indulge herself with the feel of his chest and stomach. No man had the right to be so taut, so amazingly taut, despite the rough scar tissue pebbling his torso.

His hand caressed her breast through the lycra, massaging the sensitive flesh, fingertips gently rubbing the peaks hardening at his touch. Her mouth tasted so sweet, so right under his that for a moment, he thought he'd found salvation. Her leg was hooked around his hip, pressing their pelvises together. She couldn't help but feel his arousal, and managed to moan, "Chris, I want you…"

He groaned, feeling the back of her costume for a zipper, anything that would let him loosen her from that costume, finding nothing but smooth lycra. Mary groaned and finally guided his hand between her legs. Stroking gently, he realized what she wanted him to find, and smirked as he quickly pulled open the snap-crotch on the leotard. God, she was warm, and wet, and as ready for him as he was for her. He felt her hands on the buckle of his gunbelt, the thud as the offending article hit the floor, then her hands were quickly freeing him from the jeans.

Chris groaned as Mary took his arousal in her hands, stroking it gently, softly, her nails agonizing ecstasy on the sensitive skin. "You keep that up, you're going to get disappointed awfully quick," he growled in her ear. Her hands moved up as a wicked grin split her face.

"Can't have that, now," she whispered, then gasped in pleasure as he entered her in one swift thrust. Her head fell back against the shelf of snowy towels, and she moaned as he slowly pulled out, then thrust in again. His lips caressed the column of her neck as he thrust, slowly, firmly, masterfully. Her nails scrabbled at his back as she was assaulted with wave after wave of pleasure. "Oh, god, Chris," she moaned for what she was certain wasn't the last time that night.

"Mary….god, you feel so good," he groaned, forcing himself to take his time. They might be upright in a linen closet, but he'd be damned if he was going to rush this.

Mary just closed her eyes, leg wrapped around his slim waist, feeling the pressure rise the more he thrust, gasping whenever he hit that certain spot, which was often. "Oh, Chris, Chris!" she moaned as she felt herself fall over the edge.

Chris wasn't far behind, gripping her hips and pulling her close as he groaned, spilling himself into her. He rested his forehead against her head, surprised at how winded he was. The soft touch of Mary's lips on his made him smile, returning the soft, seeking kiss.

"Think anyone noticed we're gone?" he asked quietly.

"I don't think so. There's too many people to notice two missing." She sighed contentedly and traced the lines of his abdomen with her nails.

"Still, we should think about heading back." The disgusted look on his face made Mary giggle.

"I think the Judge would okay your heading home early. You made an appearance."

"You maybe wanna come with me? See about finding some real food?"

Her smile lifted his fears. "I'd like that."

After they'd straightened both themselves and the closet up, the gunslinger and the superheroine cautiously slipped out of the closet and escaped towards the hotel lobby. Mary couldn't help smiling; she'd have to remember to call Buck and thank him for the costume suggestion.

He was right. Supergirl _was_ Larabee's Kryptonite.


End file.
